Bittersweet

Ugh, just when you think that all is well with the world, grief comes up again to bite you on the ass.

Yesterday was Emma's first communion, a first in our family in that both my Dad and my Mom were not there. The events of the past week leading up to this weekend were potentially the most horrific we've had to deal with since my Dad died. But time moves on, our daughter grows, and family comes together anyway.

I see Emma, in the dress my Gram made for me (circa 1980) and my wedding veil, being so serious and thoughtful and joyful and proud. I will probably always be a conflicted Catholic, loving God but not always loving the Church, but the ritual and beauty and importance of the day were really lovely. Plus Henry looked damn cute in a shirt and tie. We were REALLY lucky he slept through most of the Mass. He woke up near the end, looked over my shoulder at the Stations of the Cross, pointed at Jesus and joyfully shared with the surrounding churchgoers, "Look, He's NAKED!" Gotta love that.

Time moves on. My Dad lives on in Henry, I see him in the shape of Henry's ears, in his face sometimes, in the way he looks off to the side. He lives on in Emma, in her stubbornness, temper, her sense of order. He lives on in Lily, in her steadfastness, her loyalty, and sense of family.

Time moves on and we move with it. I hope I can keep up.